Chapter 16

16

ADRIAN

"Good morning, Lanie."

I instantly regret my words as she squeaks, jerking back and knocking over the drink she just placed in front of Zye. Mountain Dew flows over and off the table and chairs scrape as everyone jumps up to avoid getting wet. Lanie's cheeks are as red as her hair as she freezes, her eyes wide with panic. Another employee rushes over to help clean up the mess, breaking Lanie out of her spell. She throws her towel on the table, and it's soaked through in seconds.

"It's fine, sweetie," Zye says with an encouraging laugh. "I've spilled plenty of sodas. It happens."

Her eyes dart to me and away. "Sorry. Sorry. Sorry," she mumbles as she tries to clean the mess. This is the first time I've actually heard her speak. Then Christy storms in with his mop.

"What's going on in here?" He glares at me as if it's all my fault. And to be fair, I suppose it is. Lanie swipes at the mess with her soaked towel, spreading it around more than anything, and Miles saves his glass from the same fate just in time.

Lanie's eyes, full of unshed tears, fly to her father's face. His expression softens. "Go on, lass. Check with Ramon on the orders for table five." She nods in relief, glances over at me, and rushes off, narrowly missing another employee carrying a tray with drinks.

"Can't take you anywhere," Isaac whispers, squeezing my arm. "Maybe tone down the handsome prince thing a bit."

He's joking but also not. The royal wedding hype has died down, but I still risk being recognized. A hat and sunglasses work nicely, but Simon, rightfully so, informed me that hats are not allowed at the table.

Christy's is crowded due to the after-church rush—according to Isaac—and the reason Christy wouldn't close down for us. Evidently, it's less about money and more about the diner's reputation.

At least we have the back room to ourselves, for now.

Once the table and floor are free of Mountain Dew and everyone has fresh drinks, Christy slams the menus onto the table. "Why are you always here?"

Considering everyone else at the table is related to him in some way, which is helpful information to finally have, I assume the question is directed at me. And Reginald. But mostly me.

"Is there anywhere else in town to eat?" I ask, just in case.

"Casey's down the street has pizza."

Zye chokes on his drink. "Absolutely not."

"Burger King," Simon announces with a grin.

Christy turns to him, his mouth open. "How dare you, sir?"

Simon giggles, and Christy gives him a smile and winks. I can't get over how much the smile changes his face. He's actually quite good-looking. Wait, did Isaac unlock some code that has me leveling up? Now I'm noticing guys? Not that I'm interested in anyone but the man reminding his son that Burger King is a once-a-week deal. I don't mention that he's broken that rule already. How much of it is about wanting Simon to eat mostly nutritious meals? And how much is about money?

I wasn't sure at first, but when I mentioned meeting for lunch today, he said they'd already met their eating-out quota for the month.

"There's a quota?"

"We're on a budget." And while his cheeks had a tinge of pink in them, he held his chin high.

I push away those memories and focus on catching Christy's eyes. "This is my treat."

"Damn right, it is."

A laugh bursts out of me. The audacity of this man. But his restaurant is the only one in town that isn't fast food. And the food is good. Not Isaac or Alonzo good, but good.

When we're on our own again, Simon waves at Reginald. "Sit by me."

He hesitates, glancing at me, and I nod. Reginald takes great pains to be respectful of my privacy while also assuring my safety and making sure I don't do anything that will reflect negatively on the royal family. Not that I have any privacy, but it's nice that he tries.

It doesn't take much to persuade him, and soon, he is seated at our table while Simon explains that the best things on the menu are the cheeseburgers and the chicken strips.

My eyes return to Isaac again and again. Last night was amazing. At least I wasn't the only one who couldn't last. But it also wasn't enough.

Christy brings our food, no Lanie in sight, and this time, he doesn't glare or growl at me. That's progress. The conversation stalls as everyone focuses on their food. Almost everyone. Simon continues to chatter with Isaac reminding him not to talk with food in his mouth.

My hamburger is excellent, and I'm wondering how to get Alonzo to cook my hamburgers medium-rare when Isaac leans closer. He smells amazing, and the scent of the shampoo he uses reminds me of last night. My body reacts predictably and inappropriately.

"When do you leave?" he tries to keep his voice low, but Simon hears him, breaking off his conversation with Reginald.

"You're leaving?" The indignation on his face is adorable. And sweet. And perhaps concerning.

"I have to get back to the palace."

"And your dogs?"

I laugh. "Yes, my dogs. They miss me."

He accepts this with a nod. "We'll miss you. Right, Daddy?"

Everyone turns to Isaac. He ducks his head and flashes me his crooked, almost-shy smile. "Yes. We will."

The reality of our situation—that this can't last—sends tendrils of fear down my spine. I can already feel the sadness of being apart, even just for a few weeks. What if something happens, and this is the last time I see him? I need more time. I don't want to leave him. Ever. I clear my throat. "Come home with me."

"What?" Isaac's head jerks up, his eyes wide. "I can't leave Simon…"

"Of course not. I want Simon to come too."

Simon is practically jumping in his seat. "Can we, Daddy?"

Isaac glares at me, his dad-eyes bypassing stun and going straight to kill. I've watched Star Trek . I know some things. "Hold on," Isaac says to Simon before turning back to me. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

The hallway is empty except for a man in overalls leaving the men's room. I face away from the rest of the diners in the main area. Before Isaac has a chance to yell, I apologize. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have asked in front of Simon."

Some of the anger dissipates, but he's still frowning. "I don't want him disappointed. And I don't appreciate being the bad guy if we can't go."

"I mean, if you say no, you kind of will be the bad guy."

He stares at me as if I'm an alien from another world. "Adrian Nicholas Edward Cordolini."

"The Third," I remind him, enjoying the blush on his cheeks. "But your memory is impressive." I squeeze his arm. "I was joking, Isaac. If you say no, I understand. I will be the bad guy. We can tell Simon I made a mistake, and my mommy won't let me have visitors."

"What is up with you today?"

Heat crawls up my face, but I ignore it. "I had this amazing night with this hot, sweet guy, and I don't remember feeling this energized and excited…ever. I don't want it to end. Not yet. I like you, Isaac. I want more time with you." I take his hand and brush my thumb over his knuckles. "Please don't hate me. I'm new to this kid thing. Caring about someone this much is also new."

"You were engaged to be married."

I wink at him. "Good thing that didn't happen."

"Excuse me." A petite woman with a large purse passes us, and I turn toward the wall. But she doesn't even look my way.

"We should get back in there." He jabs my chest, but the anger is gone from his eyes. "No more surprises."

I nod and follow him back to the dining area. At least he's not angry with me. But there's a tightness in my chest that won't go away.

Simon and Zye are arguing over whether chickens or emus are better. And I suspect he's trying to distract him.

"School starts in two weeks," Isaac says, his eyes on his mostly empty plate. "Grandma and Grandpa will be back from their cruise right before then."

"In time for my birthday?"

"Yes. They'll be at the party." He leans past me and catches Simon's eye. I move back in my chair so I'm not in the way. "Remember we planned a trip to Branson next week? I already paid for the hotel room."

Simon pouts, and I swear the kid is about to cry.

"Simon, look at me."

He looks up reluctantly. His big blue eyes are full of tears.

"If you want, we can skip Branson." Isaac's eyes dart to me and back to his son. "And go with Adrian to the palace."

His eyes light up. "Really? You mean it?"

Isaac grins. "I mean it."

Simon dances in his seat, and I'm so excited I want to hug them both. Reginald stands, and the celebration stops. Even Simon is quiet. Does he realize this could all go wrong very quickly?

"Excuse me, Your Highness, but there are a few things to consider."

"Come on, Reggie. You're killing the vibe."

"My apologies for vibe-killing, Your Highness, but someone has to be the adult in the room."

Ouch. That hurts. Isaac sinks into his chair. I would bet he's usually the one to fill that role.

"What things?" I steel myself, ready to tackle whatever he throws at us.

"Passports?"

Except that. "Right."

Isaac waves his hand. "I have my passport. But I'm not sure I can get one for Simon that quickly."

"I'll see what I can do, sir, but also, we have that… thing coming up."

"Thing?" I wrack my brain trying to figure—oh. That thing . I absolutely cannot miss it. "They can go with us."

Reginald gives me his look. The one that says I have not thought this through. And he would be correct. Thinking is overrated. I've never wanted anything more than this. It will work out. It has to. I try to convey all that in my look, but I'm not sure I'm successful.

"As you wish." He stands and pushes his chair in. "I'll be in the car. Making telephone calls."

"Thank you, Reginald." Isaac gives him a warm smile I'm only slightly jealous of.

"Can I go?" Simon asks.

Isaac gives him his dad look. "We're trying to figure that out. But you need to be patient."

"No, Daddy." He jumps out of his chair and runs over to Isaac. Is that so his puppy-dog eyes are harder to resist? "Can I go to the car with Reggie?"

"I don't?—"

"I would be honored to have you with me, Master Simon."

Isaac stares at him, his mouth open. "I guess it's okay then."

Miles stands and stretches his hands over his head. "I think Zye and I are going to take off too. We've got chickens to feed?—"

"Hold on. I need to talk to Isaac first."

"No, sweetheart, you don't. You can give him the what-are-you-doing-with-your-life talk later."

"That's not?—"

Miles raises a brow.

"Okay. Whatever. Later." He points his finger at Isaac. "But we will be having that talk."

Isaac stands, holding his hands up with a disbelieving laugh. "You told me to go for it. You told me to find a prince. Now all you want to do is complain."

Hurt flashes across Zye's face, and he lifts his chin. "Because you're my bestie. And that's what besties do."

As much as I want Isaac to go with me, I also don't want him to regret it. Or be the reason he fights with his best friend. The indecision in his eyes and the way he's chewing his bottom lip help me decide. Isaac doesn't turn as I stand behind him and wrap my arms around him. "Go ahead, darling. Talk to him," I say softly. "I'll be right here toning down the handsome prince thing and not causing trouble."

He turns his head, and this close, we're sharing the same breath. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely." I can't resist kissing those abused lips. And then I step away before I give in to the urge to kiss him again.

"Okay, Zye. You have ten minutes to get it all out."

As Isaac leads him out of the dining area, Zye nods at me with a grateful look.

"Man, that was brave." Miles returns to his seat with a slow shake of his head.

A sliver of worry runs through me as I sit and drink my tea. "Will I regret it?"

He holds out his hand and moves it in a we'll-see gesture. "Fifty-fifty chance."

I choke on my drink, and he grins. His candor is refreshing. It's not something I experience much of—except from my family. "I'm not sure I like those odds."

"Sorry, man. My Zye—" His eyes go soft as if he's playing some fond memory. "He's fierce when he's protecting someone he loves. And he can be hella persuasive."

"I'm not worried. Much." Over the clinking of glasses and laughter from the patrons in the main dining area, I can hear Zye's and Isaac's furious whispers. I understand Zye's concerns. I'm a prince from another country. Isaac's home is here with his family. He has a son to take care of. But the loudest argument in my own brain is the one I push away again and again because it doesn't seem possible.

My world has been completely turned around, yet Isaac and I have known each other for a sum total of eight days.

And if he examines that fact too closely, this could all fall apart.